


A Sunday Kind Of Love

by sandwastesinthevoidofmychest



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Don't copy to another site, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Established Relationship, Inspired by Music, M/M, Marriage Anniversary, Not Beta Read, POV Mycroft Holmes, Soft Smut Sunday, Tenderness, they love each other so much guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 02:43:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21468760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandwastesinthevoidofmychest/pseuds/sandwastesinthevoidofmychest
Summary: Mycroft wakes to the sounds of birds fluttering around the eaves.It’s a Sunday and there is nowhere to be, nowhere to hurry.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Lestrade
Comments: 6
Kudos: 117





	A Sunday Kind Of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Earlier this year, I posted a headcanon [here](https://lostallsenseofcontrol.tumblr.com/post/182806043879/mycroft-and-greg-dancing-to-at-last-by-etta) on my tumblr about Mycroft & Greg's first dance being to 'At Last' by Etta James.  
I've shamelessly used that headcanon in this fic. 
> 
> Title and inspiration taken from 'A Sunday Kind of Love' by Etta James, which you can listen to [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ttjh_kK62lY).
> 
> I hope this still counts as a #SoftSmutSunday & enjoy <3

It’s in the waking. 

The cocoon of warmth that they’ve created together. 

The steady, sure pressure of the arm around his waist. 

The warmth of skin that rests on his own. 

The measured, even breaths that fall across the nape of his neck are comfort incarnate. 

The soft, dawn light finds its way around the blackout blind, it bathes the room in a dim glow. 

Mycroft wakes to the sounds of birds fluttering around the eaves. 

It’s a Sunday and there is nowhere to be, nowhere to hurry. 

Beyond the birds outside and their breathing inside the room, it’s silent. 

Mycroft cherishes waking up with Greg. 

Greg’s breathing is still slow and deep, rested enough to be beyond snoring. 

Greg is curled around him despite being the shorter one. 

His muscular arms hold Mycroft close and Mycroft has never felt so secure. 

Mycroft dozes in and out of a light sleep, the only indication of time passing is the increasing strength of the light shining into their room. 

Greg shifts in his sleep, hot skin against skin and Mycroft can’t help but shiver, his heartbeat picking up, anticipation running through his veins. 

Greg’s gentle hold on Mycroft makes it easy enough to turn around within his arms without too much hassle. Mycroft can’t help the smile that he feels blossom on his face upon coming face to face with his husband. 

Greg groans softly in his sleep, but doesn’t wake. 

Between the birds singing outside their window, Greg’s deep and even breathing, and his face bathed in an orange morning glow, Mycroft truly believes he could lay like this for years enclosed in Greg’s arms. 

Mycroft must fall asleep again because he wakes to the gentle pressure of Greg’s fingers pushing a stray strand of hair behind his ear. 

“Mornin’ sleepyhead.” Greg’s voice is low and rough with sleep, but his brown eyes are focussed on Mycroft’s face.

They’ve spent over nine years waking up together and Mycroft will _never_ tire of it. 

“Gregory.” Mycroft whispers, unable to break eye-contact. 

“Happy anniversary, love.” Greg closes the distancebetween the two of them seamlessly. 

Mycroft gladly leans into the kiss, cupping Greg’s cheek. 

“Seven years married today.” Greg murmurs, leaning his forehead against Mycroft’s. “Who would have thought.” 

“Only ever in my wildest dreams.” Mycroft admits shyly, resting his forehead against Greg’s. 

Greg’s hand traces down Mycroft’s spine. Fingers light and quick, it makes Mycroft shiver, makes the hairs on his body rise. 

“Shh, none of that.” Greg whispers, hand moving to Mycroft’s hip, his thumb gently stroking the bone. “Y’know I was a goner the minute I saw you waiting for me in that warehouse.” 

Mycroft chuckles thinking back, “You certainly were not afraid.” 

Greg snorts at that, pecking Mycroft’s lips. “Turned on more like.” 

“No, really?” Mycroft asks teasingly. 

“Shuddup you.” Greg’s cheeks redden, but he’s smiling, “Smart arse.” 

“Happy anniversary.” Mycroft murmurs, he drags his thumb across Greg’s bottom lip and can’t help but grin maddeningly when Greg nips at his finger before pulling him into a passionate kiss. 

By the time they break the kiss for air, they’re both panting against each other’s lips. Greg’s face is flushed and the rosy colour spreads down his neck and chest and Mycroft imagines that he’s in a similar situation. 

Greg brushes another strand of Mycroft’s hair behind his ear, his hand settling on his cheek and stroking slowly, watching Mycroft with eyes dark with arousal. 

“I love you, Gregory.” Mycroft’s voice shakes, leaning in again, pressing a trail of kisses from Greg’s lips to his neck. 

Greg hums with pleasure, hand gently cupping the back of Mycroft’s head as Mycroft sucks and teases the delicate skin by his collarbone. 

“Darlin’.” Greg breathes and Mycroft only carries his kisses lower, running his tongue across the sensitive nub of Greg’s nipple causing him to gasp. “Fuck, Myc!” 

Mycroft looks up at Greg through his lashes, pointedly trailing his tongue teasingly around Greg’s nipple, he uses his other hand to thumb over Greg’s other nipple. 

Greg cries out, closing his eyes, fingers clutching the bedsheets. 

Mycroft is on top of Greg by the time he makes his way back to Greg’s lips, drawing him into an urgent kiss.

Greg hums in contentment against his lips, his hands are hot against Mycroft’s skin, setting it alight as he trails his hands down Mycroft’s back, before stopping on his arse cheeks and squeezing. 

Mycroft can’t help the strangled noise he makes against Greg, and he can feel Greg’s smile against his lips, can feel the shake of Greg’s laughter underneath him. 

“Beast.” Mycroft murmurs against Greg’s lips, breaking the kiss. 

Greg’s laughter spills out of him and Mycroft can’t help but smile at the melodic sound, watch as Greg’s eyes sparkle with amusement. 

Mycroft lets Greg overpower him, letting out a laugh of his own as his back hits the mattress, and Greg straddles his thighs. 

“Oh?” Mycroft manages to raise an eyebrow, breathless. 

“Oh _yes_.” Greg murmurs, eyes dark. 

Mycroft grins, pulling Greg down into an eager kiss. He thrusts his hips just so, and a thrill of excitement surges through him at the sound of Greg’s moan. 

Greg barely breaks the kiss, he caresses Mycroft’s face, rolling his hips against Mycroft’s slowly, their erections moving against each other. 

They both moan, building up a steady rhythm between the both of them, Mycroft clutches onto Greg’s broad shoulders, panting against Greg’s mouth. 

“Myc.” Greg is breathless, pressing his forehead against Mycroft’s, “Need you.” 

Mycroft can’t help the smile that spreads across his face, the warmth that blossoms in his chest. “Then have me, Gregory. I’m yours.” 

Everything happens with a blur of familiarity, Greg fetches the lube from his bedside table and teases Mycroft, getting him ready. 

Mycroft wraps his legs around Greg, looking up at him as though he puts the stars in the sky. Frankly, in Mycroft’s world, he does. 

“Ready, love?” The husky notes in Greg’s voice send a spark of arousal through Mycroft. 

“Always.” 

The sensation of being filled by Greg will never get old. The familiar comforting warmth of him. 

Mycroft feels full and whole, and Greg watches him with his dark chocolate eyes, his mouth open, face flushed. 

Mycroft tightens his legs around Greg, pulling him in closer. They both moan as a result and Mycroft bites his bottom lip. 

Greg lets out a quiet curse and searches out Mycroft’s hands and intertwines their fingers. “Love you, My.” 

Mycroft squeezes Greg’s hands, “Kiss me.” 

Greg leans down and kisses Mycroft, he begins to thrust slowly, building up a rhythm that they both know works. 

Soft moans fill the room as they move together, wandering hands trace each other’s bodies. 

Their kisses are deep and passionate, familiar and ever-loving. 

Greg buries his head in Mycroft’s shoulder, kissing and sucking at the skin there. Mycroft throws his head back to moan, meeting each of Greg’s thrusts. 

His erection between them is leaking pre-cum. With every brush of Greg’s cock against that precious spot, Mycroft can’t help the sounds he makes. But he needs _more._

Greg notices Mycroft’s hand snake between their bodies and seems to understand immediately. 

“Lemme, darlin’.” Greg’s voice is rough in Mycroft’s ear and Mycroft shivers, nerves alight. He feels the huff of laughter in response by his ear rather than hears it. 

Mycroft lets out an incoherent shout as Greg’s hand closes around his cock. With each thrust he strokes and Mycroft can’t help but clutch onto Greg, blunt fingernails digging into Greg’s muscles. 

“That’s it.” Greg groans, voice wrecked. 

Mycroft floats on the feeling for a few seconds, aware of the heat pooling in his stomach, aware of the tension in his muscles. He knows he’s close and from Greg’s uneven thrusts and strokes that Greg is too. 

Mycroft whimpers, trailing his hands down Greg’s spine, caressing his arse, pulling him in as close as possible. 

“Close, darlin’.” Greg returns to Mycroft’s lips, kissing eagerly. His hand twists around Mycroft’s cock, his thumb stroking the head in the way Mycroft adores. 

Mycroft can only hum an acknowledgement of agreement against Greg’s lips, but he doesn’t care. 

Mycroft comes just before Greg, tightening around him and sobbing out his name, holding him close. 

Greg presses wet kisses against Mycroft’s neck, moans muffled. 

“Myc, darlin’.” Greg murmurs, their aftershocks ridden out. 

Mycroft can’t help but smile, he runs his fingers slowly through Greg’s messy silver hair as they lie beside each other, Greg’s palm rests on Mycroft’s chest, just above his heart. 

“Mmm?” Mycroft asks, dazed. Post-coital bliss still very much present. 

“‘member our first dance?” 

“How could I not, my love?” 

Greg chuckles, “Was thinkin’.” 

“Oh?” 

Greg starts humming, pressing a kiss to Mycroft’s shoulder. 

Mycroft vaguely recognises the song, but doesn’t interrupt Greg. 

“_A love for all my life…_” Greg sings huskily, pressing another kiss to Mycroft’s shoulder, “_To have and to hold.._” 

Mycroft sighs happily, pressing a kiss of his own into Greg’s hair, as his fingers continue to stroke. 

“_Oh and I want a Sunday kind of love._” Greg finishes, continuing to hum. 

They lie in silence, warm in each other’s arms. “Gregory?” The smile is evident in his voice. 

Greg moves so he’s facing Mycroft, his laughter lines are pronounced and Mycroft is certain that Greg’s eyes are shining. “Myc?”

“_Every minute, every hour, every day_.” Mycroft doesn’t try to sing, but his voice tries to echo the melody of the song. 

The open-mouthed smile that Greg gifts him in return, is worth everything. 

“Etta seems to be our soundtrack.” Mycroft murmurs, and Greg leans in for another kiss, placing a hand on Mycroft’s cheek, guiding him into it. 

When they separate, Greg’s still smiling uncontrollably and Mycroft is sure he’s mirroring him. 

They’re safe and warm in each other’s arms, in each other’s love. 

“Hm.” Greg sounds thoughtful. “And ‘_I Just wanna make love to you_’ is on repeat.” 

At this, Mycroft can’t help but laugh aloud, nuzzling into Greg. “That it certainly is, my love.” 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: @lostallsenseofcontrol  
twitter: @lostallsenseof1


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